Water
by A-D-E-E-E-R
Summary: There is something so serene about water. Luce had always thought so. It was her escape, her refuge. But we can't all hide away forever. Teen!lock/OC friendship. Warning: very angsty.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I do own Luce :)**

There is something so serene about water. Luce had always thought that since she was a child.

The way that you can just lose yourself in shimmering depths and be completely cut off from the world is the best escape you can have. Everything else, all of your worries, all of your stress, all of your anxiety, can just drift away once your head penetrates the clear surface. A small splash, that is all it takes to be transported to a world that can be completely your own. Where, absolutely nobody can find you.

The cool liquid caresses your face like a loving mother welcoming you home, and what a beautiful home it is. And what is so brilliant about it, is the fact that there is always, _always _a place for you, no matter where your path winds. As long as you can find a source of water, you are not alone. But completely alone at the same time. _Blissfully _alone. Because when you seek the water, you _long_ to be-

"LUCINDA!" a voice screeched. "YOU HAD BETTER BE GETTING READY!"

-alone.

Luce screwed her eyes shut in a moment of frustration but pulled her head out of the overflowing sink.

She took a noisy, greedy breath, gulping air back into her lungs. Wet tendrils of mousy brown hair hung lankly down the side of her ghostly white cheeks. Luce looked up from where she was emptying her mouth of the refreshing water, and her eyes met the mirror hanging above the porcelain basin.

She slid on her glasses and absorbed every feature of her face. Every blemish. She noticed with a desperate sigh that the cream that she had applied before she went to bed had done nothing at all to combat the accumulation of acne that had erupted around her hairline.

_Fringe day_, Luce thought bitterly to herself as she picked up her hairbrush and ran in through her tatty locks, the prongs getting tangled in the many knots.

"Are you ready yet?!" the voice yelled once more from the lower floor.

Instead of answering, Luce fixed her fringe to cover the red blotches and reluctantly left her sanctuary: the bathroom. She walked down the carpeted stairs and entered the kitchen. As she did, a strong aroma of pancakes wafted up her nostrils. Her mouth watered.

"Smell good?" her mother asked from behind the door, an amused smile on her lips.

Apparently Luce's face had betrayed her feelings toward the sizzling food. Luce nodded and took a seat down at the table.

"How are you today then, Lucinda?" a boy's voice asked from next to her mother.

Luce followed the source of the voice and saw her younger brother with an evil smirk on his face. Luce glared at him and looked down at her lap.

"It is rude to ignore someone, you know," Adam insisted, the same smart-arse look on his face.

Mrs Hughes tapped the side of her son's head.

"Adam, be nice to your sister," she reprimanded none-to-firmly. Her voice softened even more with the look on her little boy's face, "Go and grab your pancakes."

Adam nodded sweetly and took his plate. He sat opposite Luce and immediately dropped the blue-eyed boy act, sticking his tongue out at his older sister.

Luce stabbed a fork into her breakfast with more venom than necessary and avoided Adam's cocky grin.

Adam was the baby of the family, even though he was only two years younger than Luce, and that _apparently _granted him able to get away with murder. Especially where Luce was concerned. She was the middle child, with an older sister in Cambridge, so she was immediately shoved down the pecking order.

Phyllis (the older sister) was a genius, no two ways about it. Straight A*s in every single subject that she tried her hand at and the most infuriating things was that she didn't even have to try. All she had to do was pick up a plain old ballpoint pen, press the nib against the paper and create a masterpiece without a hint of revision or teaching.

And it wasn't as if she was just academic, she excelled at every sport going. Her figure was that of an angel and was the heartthrob of the entire school. And, as if all of that was enough, she had the kindest heart of anyone that Luce had ever met. She was forever volunteering at food banks and homeless shelters. Not an ounce of selfishness or vanity could be squeezed out of dear Phyllis. You could physically try to squeeze Phyllis but she would just forgive you immediately and ask if you hurt your hand.

As much as Luce loved her sister, she hated her so very much. She hated Phyllis from the perfect hair on her head to her glossy pedicured toes. But the hardest thing was, that she _couldn't_. No-one could hate Phyllis because she was so bloody nice!

Adam had escaped the expectations that Phyllis had laid out because of him being the youngest and the only boy. He was the _baby_. Mammy and Daddy's little boy who could do no wrong. He was the sweet-faced, blonde haired, blue eyed, fun-loving twelve year old that was doted over like pretty kitty in the window of rescue centre.

Luce was a different story from her siblings completely. Both her brother and sister had inherited the silky, straight black hair from their mother. Luce was left with a frizzy mop of dull brown strands that could be wrestled into a ponytail on occasion (if she was lucky).

Phyllis and Adam had glittering deep blue pools for eyes that echoed gleaming water that Luce often retreated to. Luce had boring brown eyes that were slightly too large and always bloodshot for some reason.

The eldest and youngest had a flawless, chestnut brown complexion that gave them an exotic, endearing look. They had inherited this from their father, but Luce (of course) took after her mother's paleness. Tiny scars were dotted around her forehead and cheeks from her violent bout of chicken pox when she was a baby. That, coupled with the frequent blemishes and dents from her glasses, made her stick out like a sore thumb when all she wanted to do was hide.

The footpath laid down by her sister made Luce's parents desperate for Luce to follow it. The problem was, Luce was average, not Cambridge material. And of course there was her… no, she didn't even want to think about it.

"Lucinda, have you got your pencil case? You left it yesterday," her mother worried as she fiddled with Adam's tie.

Luce nodded. Her mother noticed the gesture and put an exasperated hand on her hip.

"You have to speak, Lucinda. It is the only way that it will get better," Mrs Hughes looked down at her daughter expectantly.

Luce looked up with her large eyes and swallowed. _Not in front of Adam. Not in front of Adam. Please, Mum._ Alex repeated the words in her head in vain hope that her mother had spontaneously developed a mind reading ability.

Mrs Hughes continued to stare.

_Oh, I have to… one word. Just one word and she will leave me alone._

"L… L… L-Luce," Luce spluttered as quietly as she could.

"W-w-what was that?" Adam mocked with a large grin on his face at his sister's torment.

Mrs Hughes cuffed him again on the ear and gave him a stern look before turning back to Luce.

"Well done, _Luce_," she smiled (s)motherly.

Luce felt heat rise to her cheeks. She wasn't a child! She didn't need to be patronized. _Good girl Lucey-baby! Here is a gold star on your chart for saying a whole word without your horrid stutter! _

A small beep from her wrist made Luce look down to her watch and saw that the time was 8:00. She stood up and slung her school bag over her shoulder. Her chair scraped the kitchen tiles as the back of her knees caught it when she straightened up. Mrs Hughes looked up from where she was now combing Adam's hair.

"Goodbye, sweetheart. I am driving Adam to school because he has a load of cakes for the year seven bake sale today so you won't be walking down together."

Luce nodded and waved a hand before heading out of the door.

The breeze wasn't welcome to Luce. Mainly because it kept blowing back her fringe and revealing her spots, but also because her trousers were in the wash- meaning a skirt had been reluctantly donned. It wavered in the wind and Luce prayed to any god listening that she could avoid a Marilyn moment; she doubted that she would be able to catch it in time and would most likely be flashing her knickers to old Mrs Bandon over the road.

"Oh look, it is L-L-Luce," a female voice squawked from over the road.

The 'cool' gang of girls stood in their little witch's coven, drinking newly-bought energy drink from the corner shop and rebelliously smoking. The ring leader looked at Luce in the same way a vulture would look at road kill. The same vicious stance of a wolf protecting her pride, only this she-wolf was on the _off_ensive not the _def_ensive.

"Luce sells sea shells on the sea shore. Your turn," she cackled.

Luce subconsciously tightened her grasp on the leather straps of her fraying backpack and kept her head bowed. She had to just ignore them. All they wanted was a reaction and any reaction would involve her stutter, which would only add fuel to the fire.

Since the bus shelter had been taken over by the smoking youths, Luce opted for sitting on the low stone wall just next to the stop. The wall lined a poky yard belonging to Luce's aunt. Well, Luce's aunt was the landlord. She was trying desperately hard to get someone to rent it but no-one wanted to live in a tightly packed terrace house directly on the main road. Luce would have loved to live in her own house. Just her and a dog maybe. Where she wouldn't have to speak to anyone.

To Luce's surprise, the bus came early for once and came to a stop closer to her than the horde of girls. Seizing her opportunity, Luce scurried through the peeling yellow doors and hurried to her seat without being tripped for once. As she fell onto the seat, a puff of dust rose up from the surface and hung in the air, reflecting off what little light could seep through the muddied and vandalised windows.

The journey to school didn't take very long at all. Only ten minutes later, Luce felt the engine rumble as the brakes were applied and the bus wheezed to a stand-still in the school bus parking zone. She clambered off somewhere within the mass of bodies and (instead of standing in a giggling group like the other girls) headed straight for her form room.

She passed busy-bodies milling around catching up on late homework, scribbling furiously in exercise books perched on the friend's back. Then of course, there were those who also didn't do their homework on time, but didn't care. _They_ were the ones who leaned casually against the brick wall and spat chewing gum at anyone unfortunate enough to walk close to them. It had took a whole four hours of picking to get the gum out of Luce's hair last week, she wasn't about to make the same mistake. Therefore, when it came to the door to her form, she sprinted in and very narrowly missed a ball of _hubba-bubba _aimed at her scalp.

Taking her favourite seat at the back of the class and took out the book that she had acquired from the library the previous night- _Guilty _by Karen Robands. It was pretty long-winded but enjoyable nonetheless.

The beauty of getting to form early was that no-one else was there, not even the teacher. They all had… oh what is the word... um… oh yeah! _A social life._

Luce's nose wrinkled in distaste. Urgh, friends. What even was the appeal of friends? All they did was scrounge off what you have to offer – usually completed homework – and then bugger off and stab you in the back. Anyway, who would want to be friends with a 'bumbling fool who you can't even have a conversation with'? Yes, that had been said to Luce before. But she didn't really care that much. She had her books. You didn't have to speak to books, yet they understood everything about you, and you them. That was a real friendship.

"Ah, Miss Hughes. In early again I see?" Mr Dickinson commented jovially as he entered and sat down behind his desk, his overlarge stomach squashing against the desk.

Luce nodded with a small, polite smile. She looked down at her book. She tried to read it but she was just reading the words, not as sentences, just letters. She felt Mr Dickinson's eyes on her. She looked back up at him and raised her eyebrows as an invite for him to talk.

"Miss Hughes, I have had a note from your chemistry teacher. Now, I know that you struggle in some areas and I know that chemistry isn't your strongest subject, but your exams are coming up and you really need to knuckle down if you are going to follow your sister Phyllis to Cambridge, or university at all," Mr Dickinson said, reminiscing his time teaching Luce's sister, "Your Phyllis was a joy to teach. She just… understood things."

Luce nodded, trying to ignore the jealous bubble in her throat.

"She had a way with people that I will never understand," the teacher continued, oblivious to how he was making Luce feel."She could get Darren O'Donnell to do his homework on time with just a stern look. She is going to go places, her. I can imagine her high up in the politics career. Who knows, maybe she might even be prime minister one day!"

Mr Dickinson was luckily prevented from continuing his rant about how _wondrous, clever, brilliant _Phyllis was, by the sharp ding of the bell. Students began to flood in and take their spaces, chatting to one another and leaning back leisurely in their chairs in large cliques.

Only one other person in the room, apart from Luce, was sitting alone. He was a boy. Tall. Curly-haired. Clever. Luce watched him over the top of her book, Sherlock Holmes.

**I hope that was okay, thank you for reading. **

**Please Review,**

**Abby**

**x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Luce :)**

**Author's Note: Hello :) I hope you are all doing great and are having a nice day,**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_Mr Dickinson was luckily prevented from continuing his rant about how wondrous, clever, brilliant Phyllis was, by the sharp ding of the bell. Students began to flood in and take their spaces, chatting to one another and leaning back leisurely in their chairs in large cliques. _

_Only one other person in the room, apart from Luce, was sitting alone. He was a boy. Tall. Curly-haired. Clever. Luce watched him over the top of her book, Sherlock Holmes._

Of course he wouldn't notice a girl like Luce. Actually, come to think of it, he didn't really notice any other girls. At least not in the way of fancying. But he noticed the small things, like who hadn't brushed their teeth that morning, or who copied off whose homework, or who was cheating on who. Needless to say, that caused a lot of aggravation between Holmes and the rest of the student body. Not that he seemed to care.

That is what Luce found so endearing about him. He just had an aura of mystery and intelligence about him. The only thing Luce knew about him was that he had an older brother, and she only knew that from Mr Dickinson talking with Sherlock about him. Or rather, talking _at _him.

"Now class, I have a very special announcement," Mr Dickinson began as he hoisted his large stomach up so that he could stand.

Everyone groaned at that. Mr Dickinson's last 'very special announcement' was the delightful news that the exams were being brought forward.

"No, no, don't be like that. It is a good surprise this time!"

_Not bloody likely,_ Luce thought miserably.

"This year group, having being year tens now, have been elected to make a speech for the upcoming year sevens, on how your life has changed since you were their age, and give them tips on how to be successful through school!" Mr Dickinson beamed at his class, his hands clasped together excitedly.

_NO! Not a speech! No! Not in front of the school! My life is over! Shutting down brain. Everyone will laugh at me and then I will go red and then they will laugh even more and then Phyllis will hear about it and then-_

"Unfortunately, most of your speeches will be typed up and used as your English coursework and won't be read out to the year sevens," the teacher continued.

Luce let out an almighty breath of relief as her shoulders relaxed and the frowns on her forehead straightened out again. She didn't have to read it out. She was saved.

"However, one lucky person's name will be pulled out of a hat, and they will read theirs out."

Luce did a quick head-count. _1,2,3,4,5… 28_. There was a one in twenty eight chance that she was going to be picked. And her name was quite short so the paper with her name on would be smaller, decreasing the probability of her being picked. Luce looked over to Marianna Knightsborough's glum face and felt a stab of sympathy.

"You will be working in pairs for this task."

Here, Luce groaned. Nobody would want to work with her, and to be honest, she didn't want to work with anyone anyway.

But what did surprise her was when she put her hand up to ask to work on her own; a second hand asking the same thing was also raised. The owner of the hand: Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes, Mr Holmes and Miss Hughes?" Mr Dickinson asked.

"Could I work on my own?" Sherlock asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Luce nodded along with him.

Mr Dickinson fixed them with strong gaze, "No. I am sick to death of you two copping out of partner work. You can both work together."

Sherlock sent him the vicious glare that Luce had ever seen. She recoiled slightly, even though she knew that it wasn't directed at her.

Mr Dickinson seemed unnaturally immune to the glare and just rolled his eyes. Luce had to wonder how many times he had been subject to that look to build up the immunity towards it.

"Right, everyone to the computer suite to make a start on these speeches!" he bellowed jovially and waddled to hold open the door for everyone.

Most of the class scrambled to their feet and made a mad dash to get to the computers that weren't slower than a frozen river. Luce and Sherlock however, took their time. Luce hoisted her backpack over one shoulder and tipped the contents of the table into it. She then pushed her chair back and (though she didn't know why) waited for Sherlock to do the same.

"You don't have to wait for me, you know. Just because we have to work together doesn't make us friends," Sherlock snipped coldly as he stood up.

Luce felt a little bubble of hurt inside her at that moment. What was she supposed to have done? It wasn't her fault they had to work together. She walked over to the whiteboard and pulled the cap of the pen before writing.

_I am no happier about this arrangement than you are._

She then promptly rubbed it off after Holmes had read it. She exited through the classroom door and just for saying that, didn't hold open the door for Sherlock as she usually would have done.

"I don't think that is entirely possible," Sherlock deadpanned from next to her.

Though she had left the classroom first, Sherlock's long legs had granted him an extra advantage.

_Maybe he is just making fun of me because I won't retaliate, _Luce thought miserably, _I did expect better from him though. He seemed different from the others. Oh well._

The computer suite was just down the hall, and by the time that they turned into it, everyone had chosen their computer and the only one left was the battered white one with the bulky back and _2002 _edition printed in block writing across the top.

Someone sniggered to their left as Sherlock and Luce took their seats behind the ancient computer.

Ten minutes later, the thing had loaded to the login screen. Everyone else was on their second paragraph by now. Finally, the computer full loaded and brought up _Microsoft Word_. The problem was, Luce couldn't think of anything to write.

The speech was supposed to be for first years coming up into the school and was probably supposed to be filled with cheesy anecdotes and song references like-

_Always be true to who you are!_

_Don't stop believing!_

_Homework is fun!_

_Everyone loves everyone at this school!_

Luce cringed. The whole student body had been victims of the assemblies that took place weekly, and they were filled with things like _that_.

"Are you going to write anything?" Sherlock asked, rudely interrupting her thoughts.

Luce looked at him and held her arms out to the computer as if to say 'go ahead'.

Sherlock shrugged and wheeled his chair to sit directly in front of the screen. He then proceeded to close the program down and fire up the internet. Luce was about to warn him about the firewalls put around the school internet but snapped her mouth shut as Sherlock's long, slender fingers hammered down on the keyboard, typing in letters and numbers at a scary speed. His face was triumphant as he pressed enter as _Google _came up.

Luce's eyes widened. She had never seen anyone do that before.

Sherlock began to type in the search bar, _Sheep Going Missing on London Farm_ and _Sheep Rustlers- London._

He scrolled down through the search results and tapped on an article from a local newspaper. He had a few moments of intense reading, his nose almost touching the screen before turning to Luce when he had finished.

"I think I was wrong about you. You are actually okay to work with, you don't natter on like the others," he commented casually.

Luce gave him an indignant look, jutting her chin out for effect. It wasn't like she had a choice! He didn't understand what it was like!

Sherlock picked up on Luce's displeasure. He rolled his eyes and minimised the web and brought up _Notepad._ He began to tap the keys,

**_If you can't talk, why don't you type?_**

Luce read it and tutted, thinking he was mocking her like everyone else. _Of course he is, Lucinda. You said it yourself. He is just the same as all of the rest._

Sherlock typed another message.

**_I am not being sarcastic, I am just curious. _**

Luce studied his face.

His skin was ivory pale, with high cheekbones jutting out. His face was starting to take on the look of a man and was losing the little boy look. Not that he had ever seemed a normal little boy. His hair was a flawless ebony colour, shining in the light. The curve of his curls was perfect, a few stray tendrils falling down onto his forehead. Luce allowed her eyes to meet his, and sure enough, all she saw was good old fashioned curiosity- no malice at all.

She stretched out her fingers slightly and pressed them on the keypad.

**_No I haven't. I used to write things down when I was little but not anymore. I wrote on the whiteboard earlier but no-one else but you was there, so it was okay._**

**_Why?_**

**_Because it is babyish. Or that's what people think. Anyway, I don't like talking to people. People are cruel and heartless and I can do without that in my life._**

**_Not all people are. My mother isn't. _**

**_Is that the only example you can think of? _**Luce typed with an amused smile.

**_I suppose. I agree with you, though. People are so dull. I prefer not to talk, and to text._**

**_Texting sounds fun, but I don't have a phone. I am not allowed one because we are saving up to buy my sister a new car._** Luce's fingers hit the keys harder than she would have liked as she typed that.

**_You don't get on with your sister._**

**_No. _**

**_Care to elaborate?_**

**_No._**

Luce pulled away from the keyboard as the bell rang through the classroom, cueing the scuffle and kafuffle to get bags and go for breaktime. She picked up her own bag and threw it on its usual position on her left shoulder. She couldn't believe that the whole lesson was over, it had flown by. As she turned to leave, she gave Sherlock a small smile.

_Perhaps he isn't as horrible as I thought, _Luce grinned to herself. He was the only person to try to help her without having an obligation to. She blushed slightly before half-jogging to get out of the classroom without making a fool out of herself.

Sherlock picked up on that, of course. If he wanted to be a detective; he had to train himself to read people like books. Luce was like a textbook for him to practice on. A dummy. But the girl wasn't to know that. That would make the whole process pointless. If the girl got hurt, so what. The world was full of hurt, he was doing her a favour preparing her early.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. He pressed on voice notes and hit record.

_"Tuesday, 15__th__ January. Test subject Lucinda Hughes. Has a stutter. Insecure. Sibling rivalries. Has been/is being bullied. Seems a promising candidate for deduction practice._ _Will continue to get closer to._"

Sherlock finished the recording and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He smirked to himself. Luce would definitely be an interesting person to unravel.

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**Thanks so much for reading,**

**please review,**

**Abby**

**x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own the Hughes family.**

_Previously: _

_Sherlock picked up on that, of course. He wanted to be a detective; he had to train himself to read people like books. Luce was like a textbook for him to practice on. A dummy. But the girl wasn't to know that. That would make the whole process pointless. If the girl got hurt, so what. The world was full of hurt, he was doing her a favour preparing her early. _

_He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. He pressed on voice notes and hit record._

_"Tuesday, 15th January. Test subject Lucinda Hughes. Has a stutter. Insecure. Sibling rivalries. Has been/is being bullied. Seems a promising candidate for deduction practice. Will continue to get closer to."_

_Sherlock finished the recording and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He smirked to himself. Luce would definitely be an interesting person to unravel._

For once, Luce walked through the front door of her house from a day at school with a smile on her face. She just couldn't believe her luck! She had a friend!

_No- Luce, _she thought sternly, _he isn't a friend yet. You can't get all clingy with him or you will scare him off like the rest._

Nevertheless, she kept beaming. Of all the people, Sherlock Holmes! The mysterious, intelligent, curly-haired, handsome- whoa. Don't even go into that category. All Luce wanted was a friend. No a boyfriend. And yeah, it would be fantastic to call Sherlock a boyfriend, but he didn't seem the type to date. Neither was she.

"Someone's looking happy," Mrs Hughes remarked from her position of leaning against the kitchen doorway.

Luce nodded and placed her bag on the bottom step of the stairs before proceeding up them herself.

"Bangers and mash for tea!" her mother called as Luce got to her bedroom.

Luce's smile became even bigger as her favourite meal was being cooked. She pushed open the door and collapsed onto her bed with a dreamy look on her face. She took out the crumpled piece of paper that Sherlock had thrown to her in geography and smoothed it out to admire his calligraphic writing.

_You had better work on the speech tonight since we did nothing in lesson. Complete if convenient. If inconvenient, complete anyway- Sherlock Holmes._

Luce chuckled at his bluntness. Straight and to the point, the way she liked it.

She did sigh, though, when she realised the note spoke the truth. The deadline for the speech completion was tomorrow and she had only written the date.

Oh well, there were worse things to do on a Monday afternoon.

She pulled herself off the bed and perched on the edge of her desk chair as she turned on her laptop. Deciding to start from scratch, since they had done a grand total of three words, Luce typed Sherlock and her own name at the top.

She liked the way they sat together there, a little plus sign connecting their names.

_Luce+Sherlock. Holmes+Hughes._

Shaking her head to force herself to concentrate, Luce began to type away, writing garbled nonsense about how school can be _so much fun! _It was especially ironic that on Luce's planning sheet, she had been given the anti-bullying topic.

_Pf, anti-bullying my arse_, Luce tutted but obediently carried on.

It was another half an hour of typing before Luce was summoned down to dinner. By the time she had gotten downstairs, her mother, father and little brother were already tucking in. Luce took her usual seat next to her mother and began to eat her dinner.

"How has school been today then, Luce?" Mr Hughes asked, shovelling a forkful of mashed potato into his mouth.

Luce took Sherlock's advice and pulled a pen out of her pocket. She slipped off the cap and wrote on the shopping list pad in the middle of the table.

**Good thanks, Dad. How is the job hunting going?**

Mr Hughes' face darkened and his lips compressed into a thin line.

"Not all that well."

Luce gave a sympathetic grimace and so did her brother surprisingly. Both were too engrossed back in their food however, so they didn't see the look exchanged by their parents.

"Adam, Luce…" Mr Hughes began.

They both looked up curiously.

Just as their father opened his mouth to speak, a loud ding at the door cut him off.

"Have you guys ordered something?" Mrs Hughes asked sternly, "We are strapped for cash enough as it is without you two blowing money on goodness knows what!"

"I haven't ordered anything!" Adam cried indignantly.

Luce shook her head along with him.

"Then go and see what it is."

The sound of Luce and Adam's chairs scraping across the tiled floor made Mrs Hughes cringe as her two children bounded to the door.

Luce pulled it open.

"Hello, can you sign for this please. Are you Miss Lucinda Hughes?" a sharp suited man asked pleasantly.

Luce nodded her head and pushed Adam back slightly, the man was a little intimidating.

She scribbled down her name on a little machine handed to her and gave it back.

"Thank you Miss Hughes."

A brown parcel was handed over to her and the man walked back down the path and climbed into a sleek, black car.

"What is it?" Mrs Hughes yelled from the kitchen.

Adam was about to reply when Luce shook her head at him. He looked at her suspiciously but complied and shouted back, "Junk mail. Just a big catalogue that couldn't fit through the letterbox!"

Luce gave Adam a thankful squeeze on the shoulder before running up to her bedroom with her parcel. She had been telling the truth earlier, she really hadn't ordered anything. She had no money to order anything with. And that delivery person looked too tidy and neat to drive around giving parcels to people. Something told Luce that wasn't his day job.

Just as she was about to peel open the mysterious parcel, the sound of her door opening startled her. She hurriedly threw a pillow over the object and spun to face Adam in her doorway.

"You didn't think I would just let you go did you? I lied for you, you should at least let me see why you wanted me to," he nodded his head to the badly hidden package.

Luce sighed and took away the pillow. Adam came and sat at the end of her bed.

"So do you know what it is?" he asked eagerly.

Luce shook her head and reached to pull the sellotape off. Adam's hand shot out and stopped her.

"Wait!"

"Shh!" Luce hissed, pointing downstairs.

"What if there is a bomb in there, or a grenade?" Adam said in a hushed voice.

Luce raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? That guy looked like he would fit in at a Mafia party," Adam defended.

Luce let out a small chuckle at her brother, but her smile slowly faded as she thought back to the man; his immaculate suit, his newly tailored clothes, the perfectly cut hair, and the blacked out windows of the sleek black car. Luce's smile completely faded.

She hesitantly reached out and prodded the parcel, flinching as she did so. _No explosion and mass murder, excellent start, _she thought.

"Be careful, Luce," Adam warned.

Luce nodded and unfolded the first flap. It twanged open and hung loosely down the side of the box. Still no sign of explosives thankfully.

The second flap did just the same, no surprises. The third flap was the same story. Luce held her breath as she pulled back the last flap. She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the explosion when… well… it didn't happen.

Luce opened her eyes again and peered cautiously down into the box. There sat no grenade or bomb as Adam had suggested, but a shiny, new mobile phone with a post it note attached to the top.

**To Luce. Enjoy it. **

There was no name or address, but Luce was more interested in the first two words of the note. To her. It was for her! A mobile for her!

Adam scrambled over to read the note and grinned at the same time as her sister.

"Can I have a go on it?" he asked excitedly.

Luce nodded and handed him it. It didn't matter that he teased her relentlessly; they did love each other under the surface.

"This is so cool, Luce! We can both have mobiles now! This one is much better than mine, though. Can we share the games and music on it?"

Luce once again nodded.

"I wonder who it is from?" Adam murmured softly as he turned the phone on.

Once the screen had loaded, Luce took it for a moment and began to compose a text. She put no number (she didn't know any) but just wrote in the little box.

**I have no idea but I am not complaining! We can't tell Mum or Dad, though. They will go off it and probably try to sell it or something.**

Adam read the text over the top of his sister's shoulder.

"Agreed. They are both acting really weird recently," he noted.

**I have noticed that. Didn't Dad want to talk to us about something before the doorbell rang? **

"Oh yeah," Adam went silent for a moment and put the new phone carefully down on the bed.

**Adam? What's wrong?**

Adam seemed to fumble for a moment and looked up at his big sister.

"You don't think it is back do you?" his voice was small and timid.

Luce swallowed. A catch had formed in the back of her throat thinking of that time. It couldn't happen again. He had beaten it.

Luce put a hesitant arm around her brother. She wasn't quite sure how he would react given that he was now nearly a teen, but was glad when he leaned into her and rested his head beneath her shoulder.

**It won't be, Adam. Dad's strong. He beat it the first time and it won't come back, I promise.**

"You can't promise things like that," Adam whispered.

Luce went to type something back, but her fingers hovered over the keys. She didn't know what to type. What could she say to that?

As much as she hated to admit it, it made sense. Why her father kept having days off work, so that he got fired. Why he was losing hair too early to be natural… again.

Luce tightened her arm around Adam. How could such a good night be turned around so quickly?

"We should go back down," Adam said softly, pulling out of Luce's embrace.

Luce nodded and held out her hand for her brother to take. His smaller one slipped into hers. She noted the mud caked down his nails and remembered with a poignant smile how he would dig in the rose bed looking for treasure when he was younger. With Dad.

The siblings paused in the doorway of the kitchen. Their mother and father turned to face them at their presence.

"Hey you two, you didn't finish your tea," their dad scolded with a faint smile.

Adam looked up to Luce. She gave him a small nod and squeezed his hand. Adam looked back to his father.

"We know, Dad."

Joseph Hughes' face fell. His lips pressed tightly together as they wobbled slightly.

"How long?" Adam asked, his voice tremulous.

"I came out of remission two months ago," their father admitted.

It was then that Luce saw her father. She _saw _him. His gaunt, sallow face that used to be so ruddy and round was now pale and ashen. How hadn't she noticed? How hadn't she noticed that his clothes were beginning to hang off him? How hadn't she noticed that her daddy was dying?

"D-dad," Luce whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

"Go to bed, you two. Don't worry about me. I will be fine," his voice was confident but his smile was empty and hopeless.

He looked at his children, trying not to think of the little time he had left with them.

Luce took a shuddering breath and lead Adam back up the stairs to her room.

Adam left without a word and softly closed the door to his bedroom. Luce watched him go before doing the same. She pushed the box and mobile off the end of the bed gently and peeled back the duvet. She slipped underneath and pressed her head back into her pillow.

That was when the tears came. Her throat felt raw as each sob escaped her mouth, muffled by her pillow. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. Why her dad? Every muscle in her body tensed and racked with every quaking breath.

The creaking of the door interrupted Luce's sobbing. She looked up through blurry eyes and saw Adam standing there with tears down his face.

Luce pulled back the covers and shuffled so that her back hit the wall. Her brother climbed in next to her and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. Luce felt every lurch of her Adam's body as emotion and grief was ripped out of him. Luce buried her face in Adam's scruffy hair and let her tears flow.

A dark cloud settled over her family once again.

**Thank you to: Not Sauron, Bobdebob, Fuchsia. Grasshopper, fmxc17 and Hetty1204 for following/favouriting :)**

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******Abby**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show.**

**Author's Note: Hey again! There isn't really much to say today so here is the next chapter :)**

_Previously:_

_The creaking of the door interrupted Luce's sobbing. She looked up through blurry eyes and saw Adam standing there with tears down his face. _

_Luce pulled back the covers and shuffled so that her back hit the wall. Her brother climbed in next to her and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. Luce felt every lurch of her Adam's body as emotion and grief was ripped out of him. Luce buried her face in Adam's scruffy hair and let her tears flow._

_A dark cloud settled over her family once again. _

Luce woke as Adam shuffled in his sleep next to her. Expecting to see a dark room, Luce was about to fall back to sleep when she realised that light was flooding in from the window. It usually got light about eight o'clock at that time of year.

Rolling over, the girl glanced blearily at her bedside clock and her eyes widened.

_9:30_

She was meant to be in first lesson!

"A-Adam," she prodded her brother awake, not caring that he had heard her stutter for once.

"What?" he mumbled sleepily as he swatted his sister's hand away.

Luce picked up the clock and thrust it into his face.

"Oh yeah," he said, "Mum came in and turned the alarm off. She said that we could have the day off school today."

Adam rolled back over and buried his head in the pillow, falling back to sleep almost instantly. It was a trait that Luce was most envious of in her brother.

But Luce had a different mind-set. She didn't want to spend the whole day moping around the house, thinking about how different her life was going to be. Thinking about how much time was left for their family.

Luce pulled back the covers and placed them gently back over a sleeping Adam. She waddled to the bathroom and turned the dial on the shower. She pulled off her pyjamas and slipped in.

She bowed her head under the jet of water and allowed it to spill over her hair, dripping off the ends and splashing down to the basin, each tiny drop conjoining with its brothers and sisters to make their way down the plughole.

The water was comforting. Familiar. Luce let out a sigh and leaned into it as much as possible. It was just her luck that her comfort wasn't a solid object that she could hold onto for dear life.

The warmth spread over her skin leaving little trails of its journey down her arms.

But she couldn't stand in there too long. She was already horrendously late for school, she didn't need to add onto that.

She clambered out and wrapped a cotton towel around herself before half-heartedly pulling on her crumpled uniform from the sodden bathroom floor. She looked up in the mirror and tied a loop around her collar with it. Once she was finished, she looked up in the mirror and saw how truly horrible she looked.

Luce snorted. How everything she had been worrying over; her looks, her stutter, her lack of boyfriend, lack of _friend_ in general- all of that seemed so trivial now. Now that downstairs trying not to recoil at the smell of breakfast, was her father. He was so brave. She was so weak.

Luce tiptoed down the stairs and sneaked out of the door. She knew she was being a coward, but she couldn't face her parents today. She knew now about the cancer, so she would pick up on the worried glances being shot from her mother to her pale father.

The public bus stopped just outside her school, so when she saw it drive past, Luce stuck out her thumb and climbed on.

* * *

Luce ambled through the deserted playground and walkways, everyone else being at second lesson now.

Empty as it was, Luce saw for the first time the beauty of the place, without having to duck from flying chewing gum and dodge tripping feet.

The gravel path usually littered with juice cartons and empty crisp packets was clean for the first time that Luce had seen it, since break hadn't been yet for it to be vandalised. Lining the path were shimmering birch trees of all shapes and sizes. Not that their leaves had yet blossomed, winter had just left after all. Only spindly hands jutted out from the trunk.

The hedge that closed the school off from the rest of the world was neatly trimmed and looked like it had been measured with a geometry kit. The soft chirping of twittering birds nesting in the loving conifers could be heard distinctly in the beautiful quiet.

Quite. Like silent, but not really silent. Like the sound of a page being slowly turned in a book. Or the tiny whisper of wind about your ears.

"Lucinda?" and that harmony was crushed.

Luce turned at the sound of the voice and saw Mr Dickinson standing there with his arms crossed.

"You are late," he remarked, looking down his nose at her. "That isn't like you."

Luce shrugged and began to walk over to the C Block were she was supposed to be in Science.

"Aren't you going to give me an explanation? You don't just shrug your shoulders in my school."

_This isn't your school. Don't get ahead of your station oh mere English teacher of mine, _Luce wished to say but it wouldn't be half as witty when all of the extra syllables of her stutter were added in.

Mr Dickinson continued to stare at her. Luce made it perfectly clear that she wasn't about to respond. Finally, the teacher sighed.

"Fine. I will just have to get the receptionist to ring home," he threatened with a satisfied smirk, confident that he had hit gold with that.

He hadn't.

Luce nodded nonchalantly and continued her way to the C Block much to the dismay and bemusement of her teacher.

"What a strange child," he muttered as he walked away back to his class.

Luce resisted the urge nod along with him as she opened the door to the corridor. She reached out to knock on the door to her science classroom but left her fisted hand hovering before it fell. She took in a deep breath. Through the thin wood, she could hear her classmates laughing and joking and chattering raptly about the boy they were taking to prom.

She looked down at her feet. Her hand still stayed where it was. She had greater problems to worry about without boys getting involved. She let her knuckles rap on the wood.

"Come in," Mr Beckett, her science teacher, called.

Luce slowly opened the door and awkwardly shuffled in.

"Ah, Luce. I was wondering when you were going to turn up," Mr Beckett smiled. "Let me fill you in: we are studying bacteria found on classmates hands under a microscope today. Just something a little fun after all of the revision you have all been working so hard on. There are no girls left to work with but Sherlock is free over in the corner."

Luce stood up on her tiptoes to peer over the mass of students until she saw the unmistakeable curly hair of Sherlock.

She nodded her thanks to Mr Beckett (to which he kindly received) and weaved through the desks until she reached the back.

Sherlock was hunched over a microscope, looking completely engrossed in his work. One hand was adjusting the dial on the microscope, the other was furiously scribbling down notes in his notebook.

Luce cocked her head to the side and just watched the genius at work. She was too shy and too inquisitive to interrupt him. It didn't really matter, however, Sherlock seemed to have that covered as well.

"Are you just going to stand there? You are in my light."

"S-sorry," she muttered quietly and stood to the side away from the sun streaking through the window.

Luce meekly perched herself on the edge of one of the rickety lab chairs and bit her lip in thought.

"If you are looking for something to do, you can go through my notes and write them up in the exercise book," Sherlock suggested, his face still buried in the scientific equipment.

Luce nodded and pulled the notebook toward her. His writing was detailed, neat and legible, despite being written with his non-writing hand. She began to write up the notes as she was told in both Sherlock's and her own book.

It was quite peaceful at the back. Everyone had crowded around the front tables where the popular kids sat so that further back you went, the sparser the headcount got until you got to just Luce and Sherlock. The former felt like she was enjoying it a little too much.

Finally, Sherlock surfaced from the microscope and faced Luce as she finished writing up the report. He ripped a sheet of paper from the back of his notebook and wrote:

_So how are things?_

Luce grinned inwardly to herself: how sweet! Of course she didn't realise the ulterior motive in the friendship establishing between herself and Mr Holmes.

_Okay, I guess._

After she wrote those words, the grin faded. That was perhaps the biggest lie she had ever told. Okay. She was about as okay as her father. The opposite of okay. And that was the problem.

_How are you liking the mobile?_ Sherlock wrote and shoved it toward Luce.

_It's cool. I haven't really had time to-_ Luce stopped writing.

How did Sherlock know about her new mobile?! She looked up at the mysterious blue eyes. The deep, swirling blue like the most beautiful of oceans… Stop Luce!

"How do you know about my phone?" she demanded suspiciously.

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. Luce raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Your stutter," he said, motioning to the girl opposite him.

Luce frowned. What was this guy going on-? her jaw dropped. Her stutter. She… she hadn't stuttered. She had gotten through seven words without even a small slipup.

"H-h-h," she fumbled, the words catching in her throat as normal, the moment had gone.

Swallowing to hide her shame at not being able to do it again, Luce picked up her pencil and wrote:

_Never mind that, _- though she did mind- , _how did you know about my new mobile? Explain yourself._

"Haven't you checked your contact list yet?" Sherlock asked.

Luce slipped her hand into her blazer inside pocket and plucked up the phone that she had hastily gathered up on her way out that morning. She tapped on the contact button.

_1 contact._

Luce selected it.

_Sherlock Holmes. _

Luce looked up from the screen to Sherlock's smirking face. That explained it, he had sent her the phone. Most girls would have been swooning at the gift and spurting thank-yous repeatedly. But once again, that was _most girls. _Out of nowhere, Luce suddenly felt a spark of anger. Putting the phone on the desk, she ripped off another sheet of paper and scribbled-

_ I am not a charity case._

In that moment, the bell rang – just at the right time – and Luce turned to leave.

Suddenly, a hand clasped around her wrist. The hand belonging to Sherlock. She felt her heart race as his skin brushed against hers.

"I didn't give you the phone out of charity or because I feel sorry for you," Sherlock watched Luce's facial features soften slightly and knew he was on the right track, something to write down for later, "I just thought that you might want to text me sometime."

Luce studied Sherlock just as carefully as he was studying her, just for different reasons. Him because he was analysing the results of his social experiment, her because she was analysing the results of her heart- even if she didn't like the conclusion.

She hated it even more when the weaker side of her took over and her hand curled back around the phone and her head gave a small nod before turning out of Sherlock's grasp and exiting the room.

Sherlock watched her go and couldn't help but smile. He was getting some good quality material that afternoon to work with.

**Was that okay? **

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**Frizzazzle: Hey! Since I can't pm you, here is your reply. Thank you so much for such a great review! Teen Sherlock is easier to write than adult Sherlock so I can't take too much credit for that haha. Thanks again and I hope that you like this chapter :) **

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**Abby**

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Luce and her family :)**

**Author's note: I apologise for the lack of updates, my internet is playing up again so I am once again in the wifi cafe :)**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_Luce studied Sherlock just as carefully as he was studying her, just for different reasons. Him because he was analysing the results of his social experiment, her because she was analysing the results of her heart- even if she didn't like the conclusion._

_She hated it even more when the weaker side of her took over and her hand curled back around the phone and her head gave a small nod before turning out of Sherlock's grasp and exiting the room._

_Sherlock watched her go and couldn't help but smile. He was getting some good quality material that afternoon to work with._

Luce shut the front door with a soft snap and turned the key to lock it. She placed down her bag in its usual place at the foot of the stairs before proceeding up them and into her bedroom. She couldn't help but to let her mind wander to Sherlock. Every time she did think of him, she would subconsciously touch the mobile phone in her pocket with a small smile.

Only when she turned on the light switch on her bedroom wall did she realise that Adam was sat at her desk on her laptop. She couldn't bring herself to be angry at him, though, she was in too much of a good mood.

She walked over to her brother and tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped at the sudden contact and turned his head to look at her. Luce's eyebrows knitted together as she saw the redness around and in Adam's eyes.

"W-w-what's w-wrong?" she asked in concern.

Adam looked up at her with an annoyed expression, "Are you joking?"

She frowned back at him and shook her head.

"You aren't funny, Luce. This whole thing isn't a joke," he snapped.

At that moment, Luce heard the front door be unlocked and footsteps encroach into the house.

"I'm home!" her father's voice greeted, a little quieter than usual.

And just like that, everything came back to her. Her dad. The cancer. She brought a hand up to her face as her happy mood evaporated and was replaced by an intense feeling of sickness. She felt bile rise in her throat and dashed to the small bathroom down the hall.

She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and emptied her stomach. She coughed and spluttered until she had nothing left and was just dry heaving. Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of her face and pulled her tatty hair back in a loose grip out of her face. Luce looked back and saw Adam with a downcast expression.

Flushing the chain and leaning against the bathroom wall, Luce muttered a stuttered thanks to her younger brother who up until now had despised her. She put her hand to the back of his head and pulled him into a hug, tucking her chin atop his head.

"You forgot," Adam mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of his sister's school blazer.

"I'm… s-sorry," she whispered softly.

He pulled back from her and looked up into her eyes, "I did as well. It just makes it ten times harder when I remember again."

Luce nodded sullenly, casting a look to the toilet.

"Dad goes for another scan tomorrow," Adam informed her. "I overheard him and Mum talking when you went to school. It is supposed to see if the chemo is working, apparently. To see if the tumour is shrinking."

"Keep p-p-p," the words caught in Luce's throat. She pursed her lips and tried to force them out, "p…p-p…_p…p-"_

"Positive?" Adam finished for her, not wanting to see another of his family in pain. At her resigned nod, he continued, "But what if I can't? What if the tumour hasn't shrunk? What happens then? I can't live without Dad."

His small voice broke and he looked away as his eyes filled with tears for what seemed like the eleventh time that time.

"Neither c-can I-I."

* * *

Tea was silent, only the sound of clanking crockery and painful chewing. Mother had overcooked the lamb again. Not that anyone complained, that would break the silence. And no matter how painful the silence was, it in no way could be worse than the agony of speaking. Of pretending that everything was normal and okay.

Luce glanced over to her father's untouched plate and understood that he was worried about his scan the next day. Just as the thought crossed her mind, Mr Hughes stood up and pushed his chair out with the backs of his knees. He was about to carry his plate to the bin when Luce immediately stood and took it out of his hands. He looked at her in surprise but smiled as she scraped his food in the bin and placed the plate in the dishwasher.

Feeling an extreme urge to comfort her obviously anxious father, Luce then walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. His arms closed around her back and held her just as tightly back.

"Love you Lucey," he whispered into her hair.

"L-love you t-t-too, Da-a-ad."

Luce reluctantly released her father but she knew that she had to. She was beginning to feel a lump in her throat again and she couldn't stand to have her father see her cry. She had to be strong for him; it would be too selfish to show her emotions.

She gave him a watery smile before taking up the stairs two at a time and retreating to the bathroom. She knew what she needed right now. With a comforting sense of familiarity, Luce grasped the silver knob of the shower and turned it anticlockwise. Warm water spurted from the shower head and rained down on Luce as she stepped in.

The water ran over her skin, sending small tingles everywhere it landed. She felt her worries lift temporarily and just relished in the water. She loved it. It was hers. She ran a hand through her now soaking hair and threw it back into the torrent of water falling from above.

"Luce! Are you trying to drain the Thames or blow a hole in our water bill?" her mother nagged from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Sorry!" Luce apologised and stepped back out, wrapping a towel around herself.

She only realised how long she had actually been in the tub from the blinding amount of steam that circled in the bathroom. It was funny how seconds became minutes under there. She opened the door and allowed swirls of steam to billow out onto the hallway before quickly shutting it off and shuffling to her room.

She sat down behind her desk – Adam having gone back to his room after they had finished tea – and took out the phone from her hung up blazer. She was pleasantly surprised when she saw that she had a message and smiled. However, as quickly as the smile had come, she wiped it away. She couldn't feel happy. It disgusted her to see how selfish she was being. There her whole family was suffering silently and she was hung up over some stupid boy!

With a snarl, Luce placed the phone face down on her bedside table and climbed into bed despite it being early. She pulled out her book from under her pillow and flipped to her bookmark and began to read.

She had only got through a couple of pages, though, when her phone gave a short buzz. Luce's eyes flickered from the paragraph she was reading to the phone before quickly returning to her book _Jane Eyre._

She read the words, trying to ignore the urge to answer the text.

_He did not leave for Cambridge the next day-_

_Buzz._

_-as he had said he would. He deferred his departure a whole week, and during that time he made me feel what severe punishment a good yet stern-_

Buzz.

_-a conscientious yet implacable man can inflict on one who has offended him. Without one overt –_

Buzz.

-_act of hostility, one upbraiding word, he-_

Buzz.

-_contrived to impress me momently-_

_Buzz._

_-with the conviction that I was put-_

Buzz.

_-beyond the pale of his favour._

With an annoyed grumble, Luce shut her book with a snap and reached over to look at her phone.

**Hello, Lucinda – SH**

**Are you there? – SH**

**What are you doing that is so important? – SH**

**Oh, are you ignoring me? Okay. – SH**

**No, not okay. Why are you ignoring me? – SH**

**Answer my texts. – SH**

**Seriously. If convenient of course. Actually, if inconvenient, answer me anyway. – SH**

Hitting the keys a little harder than was necessary, she replied with: **You like that phrase don't you? – L**

**Ah, hello Lucinda – SH**

**I am sure that I have told you before to just call me Luce. And what is so important that you felt the need to interrupt me while I was reading? – L**

**What's happened? – SH**

**What are you talking about? – L**

**Something has happened, what? Are you okay? – SH**

**Yeah… I'm fine. – L**

**Then why are you so sad? – SH**

Luce stared at that message for a good few seconds without replying. 'Why are you so sad?' Good question, Sherlock. Why was she so sad? She was pretty sure she had a list longer than a rich child's Christmas list.

**It is none of your business. – L**

**I am not going to give up until you tell me. – SH**

**Well, I hope you are ready for a long night, my friend. – L**

**Why are you being so defensive? I thought we were friends. – SH**

That sentence made Luce's breath catch in her throat. No-one had ever said that to her before. She had always said that to other people and then they had laughed in her face.

**We are. – L**

**Then tell me what is wrong. – SH**

**I have to go to sleep. I will see you tomorrow, Sherlock. – L**

Luce pressed the power button on the phone and held it down until the screen went black. She placed it back on her bedside table and sunk down into her bed, pulling her duvet up to her chin.

* * *

Sherlock sat up in his chair in his bedroom, his mobile held loosely in his hand. His other hand was typing notes furiously into his laptop. He noted down the change in Luce's attitude as he said certain things and how long she took to reply after certain things were sent.

This was fast becoming one of his most useful and intriguing cases he had undertaken in his adolescent lifespan.

It was – as he had expected – another five hours at two o'clock in the morning when Luce text him back. One thing he hadn't expected was the nature of her sadness. He had assumed it was boyfriend trouble or hormones or falling out with friends. Even he himself was caught out when he received the text from her.

**My dad has cancer. He had it before but went into remission. Now it is back and this time it is really serious. He has to go for a scan tomorrow which could decide if he lives or dies. I feel like I am falling apart but somehow have to sew myself together to be strong for my dad. But it feels like I am stitching myself back together without any anaesthetic and a blunt needle. I don't know what I am going to do anymore. Are you happy now? Are you satisfied that I have told you? I am going to go to sleep again now. And by sleep, I mean close my eyes and pretend that I don't exist for a while. Have a nice night Sherlock. – L**

Sherlock's eyes were glued to the text he had just received. He just couldn't really believe it. He knew that Luce had issues from what he had deduced from her, but he had never seen this coming.

He switched his gaze to his left hand where it had been rattling down notes of their entire conversation. But as it had written down the first sentence, it just hung there in mid-air, hovering over the keys. The cursor flashed expectantly, waiting for him to type more but he didn't want to. A foreign feeling washed over him as he closed the lid of his laptop.

He steepled his fingers under his chin and repeated a sentence that Luce had sent to him,

_But it feels like I am stitching myself back together without any anaesthetic and a blunt needle._

Before, he would have written pages and pages on the possible meanings of that sentence but he found that he just didn't want to. He switched off his Dictaphone and just stared out of his window. He watched as the rain drops rolled down his window and wondered distantly if Luce was doing the same in her sleepless state.

As a matter of fact, she was.

* * *

**Author's Note-**

**HUGE thank you to: , rycbar15, anonymous, guest, frizzazzle and DonnaWatson for reviewing! Replies will be sent to you soon :)**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Please review,**

**Abby**

**X**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Luce :)**

**Author's Note: Here is the next update. My legs are still aching from the Race for Life on the weekend so yey! Enough of my complaining, Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_He steepled his fingers under his chin and repeated a sentence that Luce had sent to him, _

_But it feels like I am stitching myself back together without any anaesthetic and a blunt needle._

_Before, he would have written pages and pages on the possible meanings of that sentence but he found that he just didn't want to. He switched off his Dictaphone and just stared out of his window. He watched as the rain drops rolled down his window and wondered distantly if Luce was doing the same in her sleepless state._

_As a matter of fact, she was._

Once the first glimmers of sun had stained the sky, Luce felt it acceptable enough to 'wake up'. Of course, she had been awake for the entire night. She had heard her mother and father climb out of bed at three o'clock that morning to get to the hospital for four. Her father had to be under observation for a couple of hours before the scan and they wanted the earliest appointment available to get it over and done with.

Luce was in charge of looking after Adam, so had to get up early anyway. Not that she didn't want to. It was a godsend to get out of her room, to leave behind the small smudge of paint on her bed that she had been staring at for hours.

She proceeded quietly down the stairs to avoid waking her brother and opened all of the blinds before washing down the counter tops and the floors as she had watched her mother do every morning since she was a baby. Luce felt incredibly like her mother in that moment, on her hands and knees scrubbing yesterday's stains off the tiles, her hair pulled back in a careless bun so as not to fall on her face.

The sound of Adam's bed creaking as he woke alerted Luce to start breakfast. She didn't trust herself to cook anything without one of her parents there, yet. The last thing her cancer-ridden father needed at that moment was coming home to a burnt down house. That would send her mother over the edge.

So cereal and milk it was.

"Whatcha doin'?" Adam mumbled sleepily, rubbing his bleary eyes as he came and perched himself on one of the breakfast stools.

"M-m-making b-breakfast," Luce replied quietly.

"Where's Mum?"

"She w-w-went to th-th-the hospital w-with D-dad."

Adam looked down at his lap as he remembered and swallowed audibly.

Luce felt a surge of pity for her brother and pushed a bowl of his favourite cereal at him – coco-pops and milk. He looked at it as if considering if he was hungry or not, then decided he wasn't.

"E-eat," Luce ordered.

"I'm not hungry," Adam retorted.

"Y-you st-still ha-ha-have to eat. You'll g-get s-sick."

"Didn't do Dad any good, did it?" a brief silence fell over the kitchen as Adam realised that he had crossed the line. "Anyway, you aren't eating breakfast."

"I-I've already ha-had m-m-mine," Luce lied pointed over to the pile of dishes still in the sink.

Adam followed her finger and his shoulder slumped in defeat as he brought a spoonful of coco-pops to his lips. Luce nodded approvingly and reflexively wiped up the small splodge of milk that he dropped on the kitchen top.

Adam watched her, "You look like Mum."

Luce looked up at him from where she was leant across the counter and immediately straightened back up, trying to look as normal as possible.

"Why are you being Mum?" Adam asked.

"W-well I-I am n-not going to l-let you g-g-go hungry, a-am I?"

The corner of Adam's mouth curved up into a smile for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"You are a good sister, Luce," he expressed sincerely, still smiling at her.

Luce felt a little bubble of happiness warm her chest as she reached out and nudged the side of Adam's cheek fondly. It was the first time he had ever told her that. Phyllis was always the one who got told she was the favourite.

As if reading her mind, Adam said, "Has Philly phoned?"

Luce pressed her lips together and shook her head, angry at her elder sister. Luce noted with surprise that Adam's innocent face held the same anger.

"Wh-why are y-you angry? Ph-Ph-Phyillis is your f-favourite. Sh-she's the p-p-p-p-_perfect _one," Luce tried hard not to spit her name.

Adam looked Luce steadily in the eye, "If she is so perfect, where is she? She isn't in this kitchen and she isn't at the hospital so that puts her as pretty un-perfect in my books, Sis."

"W-w-we shouldn't b-be angry. Sh-she's busy at u-u-university. She'll p-p-probably c-come up a-as soon as sh-she can."

Adam nodded but looked disbelieving. It was if he knew that what Luce was saying was a load of rubbish. They both knew – as well as their parents – that Phyllis was ambitious. She had scrounged as much off the family and then buggered off to Cambridge. She wouldn't be coming back. Though she was too _nice _to say it out loud, the family were holding her down. So she had kicked out the tethers and flew away, leaving a deflated and unstable family behind her.

Luce didn't want to see her brother come to terms with that, but it seemed that he had aged just as fast as Luce had had to.

"I had better get ready for school," Adam commented as he scraped up the last of his breakfast and headed to get his uniform on.

Luce picked up his bowl and swilled it around in the sink. Did she really have to go to school today? The girl looked around the now empty kitchen, the silence heavy in the air and thought of a better question: could she really face staying?

"Luce," Adam's head popped around the doorway and she was startled from her troubled thoughts, "You coming?"

Luce shook her head, "I-I'm st-staying off. L-l-looking after th-the old p-place."

Adam nodded in understanding and paused in the doorway for a moment.

"Does it help?" he suddenly asked. "Going to school? Does it help?"

Luce thought back to yesterday when she had been with Sherlock. All of her rational thought had just flittered away. Every worry. Forgotten.

"Yes. I-it does," she smiled.

He smiled back at her and seemed to hesitate before walking back into the kitchen and doing something he had never done before. He reached up and placed a kiss on Luce's cheek.

"Thanks," he murmured and turned on his heel to head to school.

Luce stood in shock as to what her brother had just done and numbly brushed her finger against her cheek. Her brother had never kissed her before. Never.

_Perhaps one good thing has come from Dad being ill. I may be losing a father and gaining a brother._

Luce smiled wryly, how bittersweet.

She finished washing the mountain of crockery that her mother had been too nervous to wash last night, and jumped back on the countertop, swinging her legs.

_What to do?_

It would be an idea to ring the hospital and see if her father was okay, but they had that stupid rule about mobile phones interfering with their technology. It was the 20th Century, surely machines could be made that weren't foiled by something as minuscule as a little phone.

Her father would probably be sleeping anyway. When he had the cancer last time, he had slept almost all day.

Luce once again looked around the empty kitchen. The silence. She blinked slowly. She hoped that when she re-opened her eyes, she would be a little girl again, sat colouring on the kitchen table; Phyllis opposite, doing homework; their mother trying fruitlessly to feed a fussy Adam in his duck-patterned high chair; and their father watching his children and wife with a face of pure content, leant back in his chair and smiling with a cup of tea in his hand.

But of course, no matter how we would all like to go back to when we were children, we can't. To go back to our innocent days where the most important thing was what you were having for tea, and you could while away the hours watching cartoons. When our parents used to walk past you and smile, tickling your cheek fondly. They don't do that now. They don't smile as much. The older you get, the greyer the world becomes.

Pushing back off the counter and grabbing her coat off the rack, Luce proceeded out of the door and locked it behind her. She had no idea where she was going, but she couldn't stay in the kitchen any longer.

A casual thought that crossed her mind to go was the park at South End. It was usually saved for the older generation with no skating parks or monkey bars, just the quiet. It sounded nice. It wasn't that far away either.

* * *

Sherlock sat at the back of the science classroom, shooting glances every so often at the classroom door. He had expected Luce to be in class so that he could apologise to her – well, he could _think _about apologising to her, but actually just weirdly stare at her until she started to talk to him again.

But she didn't come. Sherlock had seen her brother Adam earlier walking into school, but his sister hadn't been with him.

Once the bell for break rang, Sherlock didn't head to the library as he usually did, he scouted out Adam Hughes, which didn't take long.

"Are you Lucinda Hughes' brother?" Sherlock asked briskly as he cornered the boy.

"Luce," Adam automatically corrected before shaking his head. "Sorry, habit. Uh, yeah, she's my sister. Why? Are you her boyfriend?!"

Adam's eyes were suddenly wide as saucers with a protective flare in them.

"No," Sherlock denied hastily. "No, I was just wondering where she was. We're friends."

Adam was still eyeing him cautiously but answered nonetheless, "She stayed at home."

"Thank you," Sherlock said and turned to walk away. He stopped himself at the last minute and moved to stand back facing Adam. "And about your father…"

Adam's jaw tensed and he looked down for a moment, "Yeah."

Sherlock stood awkwardly, unsure what to say. He thought of saying sorry, but what had he done? He hadn't given him the cancer. It seemed to be what others said if someone was ill or dead but it made no sense. To Sherlock anyway.

Thankfully, Adam seemed to see what Sherlock was trying to say and clapped him briefly on the shoulder, "Thanks, mate. I'll tell Luce that you were asking after her."

Adam walked away with his group of friends, slipping back into his 'I'm fine' mask. It seemed that it was a trait the brother and sister shared.

Just as Sherlock was about to make a note of it on his Dictaphone, his finger paused on the button as it had done on the keyboard the previous night. He found that he didn't want to press the button. He frowned and placed the device back in his pocket. Maybe he should wait until he got home. That was all. Yeah, just instinct knowing that he needed to do it at home. Definitely.

The bell was lessons was due to go but Sherlock had no intentions of going to lessons. He had been on the school database and written down Luce's address that day after they had been partnered for the speech. He had to go and see her.

And no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was purely for research reasons, he couldn't shut out the small feeling of happiness and apprehension at seeing Luce. It was something he was very unfamiliar with and as a result, was not a welcome notion at all.

Luce was sat with her back propped up against a tree trunk behind her. Her messy, unbrushed hair was swaying slightly in the breeze, tickling her forehead and nose. She let out a small series of sneezes as the strands brushed under her nose, stopping only to force her hair back behind her head.

"Bless you," a deep voice remarked from behind her.

Luce gasped in surprise – having thought she had been the only person in the park – and spun around to see none other than Sherlock Holmes stood there in his school blazer.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" he asked softly.

Luce shook her head and motioned to the grass around her. Sherlock gave her a grateful smile – or what he hoped was a grateful smile, more like a grimace – and sat next to the girl. She shuffled along slightly to make room for him to lean against the tree, also.

"W-what are y-y-you d-d-doing h-here?" she stuttered, a blush forming on her face.

Sherlock reached into his inside pocket and took out a shiny red apple. He handed it to her.

At her questioning look, he elaborated, "You didn't eat breakfast. You didn't sleep. You need to take care of yourself better."

An indignant look flashed over Luce's face as she opened her mouth to retort. Sherlock immediately realised his mistake with being too blunt again.

"I just mean… you look hungry," he recovered. "Please, eat it."

Luce looked up at him with pursed lips and an exasperated look but took the apple all the same with a stuttered "thank you".

"No problem. Luce, about your father-"

"I-I d-don't want to t-t-talk about it," Luce cut him off immediately and sank her teeth into the apple.

"Fair enough," Sherlock muttered.

A silence fell over the two, the only sound the crunching of Luce's apple and the soft breaths of them both.

"Have you been here before?" Sherlock asked, breaking the silence.

Luce shook her head, "G-good. N-no memories. N-nothing to h-h-h-hurt."

Sherlock nodded and leant back against the tree. Out of the corner of her eye, Luce watched him.

His school tie was loosened and the top four buttons of his shirt undone. His curly, ebony hair rolled lazily down the side of his face making him look effortlessly handsome. Luce resisted the urge to smile when he kept flicking them back out of his eyes. Even at his age, his face was that of a man. Of course, not fully the great man he was about to become.

At this age, he was still a good man.

He looked over to Luce and she hastily turned away, heat rising to her cheeks as he caught her staring at him. He smirked to himself a little and – for no apparent reason and without realising what he was doing – pressed the sticker from the apple on the back of Luce's jumper.

Luce felt what he was doing, but didn't take it off. She instead looked back to him as he watched the sky and knew something for definite that day.

Bad news was to come. But a small ray of hope shone through, and she was sat next to it.

**HUGE thank you to: rycbar15, DonnaWatson and for reviewing!**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Please review,**

**Abby**

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Luce.**

**Author's Note: Hello :). Here is the next chapter. I haven't been feeling well recently so I apologise for the lack of updates.**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_He looked over to Luce and she hastily turned away, heat rising to her cheeks as he caught her staring at him. He smirked to himself a little and – for no apparent reason and without realising what he was doing – pressed the sticker from the apple on the back of Luce's jumper._

_Luce felt what he was doing, but didn't take it off. She instead looked back to him as he watched the sky and knew something for definite that day._

_Bad news was to come. But a small ray of hope shone through, and she was sat next to it._

It was two hours later that Luce's phone buzzed in her pocket. She looked down in surprise and lifted it to her ear. Sherlock, who was still sat next to her under the tree, watched her closely as her relaxed, carefree face changed.

"Th-thanks, Adam. I-I'm coming n-n-now," she smiled unconvincingly, trying to keep her tone upbeat.

She ended the call and her smile dropped. She leant her head back so that it knocked against the trunk of the tree and let out a sigh, her eyes closed.

"You need to go back?" Sherlock guessed.

Luce nodded, "Mu-Mu-Mum wants to speak t-t-to us," she took in a deep breath. "A-Adam didn't say a-a-anything about D-D-Dad."

"I'm sure he will be fine," Sherlock lied in what he hoped was a convincing voice. That was what people were supposed to do, wasn't it? Lie to make someone feel better? Otherwise he would have to come up with a whole new approach.

Getting to her feet, Luce shrugged her satchel onto her shoulder. She didn't know why she had brought her school bag to the park. She supposed that it was habit to pick it up before she went out of the door on a morning. Habit. It was a funny thing to break.

"Th-thank you, Sherlock. Y-y-you didn't ha-ha-have to come to ch-cheer me up. I a-a-appreciate it," Luce blushed slightly and turned to walk back to her house.

She almost felt her heart stop when Sherlock's hand rested briefly on her shoulder before quickly withdrawing. She turned to face him. He looked mildly embarrassed.

"I could come with you," he suggested.

Luce sent him a questioning look.

"To your house," he expounded. "You look like you could do with some uh… what do they call it… um… oh, moral support."

Luce studied Sherlock's features as he stumbled for his words with slight amusement. The corners of her lips twitched up into a tiny smile, "I w-would like th-that."

Sherlock nodded, letting out the breath he had been holding when Luce's back had turned. He ran a hand through his curls and jogged to catch up to the retreating form of his friend.

_No Sherlock, not friend. _Experiment. _No friendship here, at all. This is simply part of the method. _

Sherlock pursed his lips and cursed under his breath as the thought didn't seem to sit right with him. No matter how much he wanted to believe it. Dear God, it was like Mycroft had told him, he was turning into a goldfish.

* * *

Luce licked her lips, standing on her lawn. She stared at the front door. She could vaguely make out the form of Adam sat in the kitchen window. He saw her out of the corner of his eye and beckoned to her impatiently.

But she found her feet didn't want to move anymore. At least not forwards. She took a step back but her back pressed against Sherlock's chest. She spun around to apologise, but he shrugged it off before she had chance.

"I c-c-can't go in there," she whispered. "It's b-b-bad. I-I can't."

"Yes, you can. I'll be right out here," _think Sherlock, think! You need to comfort her! Think, think, think, _"If not for yourself, then do it for Adam."

He watched with relief as her eyes shifted to Adam and he realised he had said the right thing.

Luce sucked in a sharp, long breath and braced her jawline. She willed her legs to co-operate and she powered forward, spurred on by the thought of Sherlock outside and her brother inside. She opened the front door, gave a small smile to Sherlock, and shut it behind her.

Sherlock kept his eyes trained on the kitchen window and saw as Luce embraced Adam. He stood faithfully on the grass, never moving from that spot.

* * *

Inside, Luce broke away from Adam and gave him a reassuring smile. She turned to her mother and wrapped her arms around her, breathing in the scent of her perfume and enjoying the feel of her mother's cardigan against her cheek. She pulled away.

Mrs Hughes looked a little worse for wear. Her hair wasn't in its usual perky bun on the top of her head; it was a lank mess spilling onto her shoulders. Her face was drawn and paler than usual, dark circles forming beneath her eyes.

"Mum? A-a-are y-you okay?" Luce asked worriedly.

It was as if she had just pulled the cork from the upturned wine bottle. As soon as the words had left her mouth, Mrs Hughes let out what she had been holding back for the good of her husband all day. A wretched sob escaped her lips and her hand clapped over her eyes as tears dripped down her cheeks.

Luce and Adam traded shock-filled glances before diving forward and guiding their mother to sit down on one of the stools in the kitchen. Mrs Hughes' hair clung to her damp skin in strands and she tried to dash them off, waving away her children's attempts to console her.

"What happened, Mum?" Adam gathered the courage to ask, rattled by the sight of his usually composed mother in pieces.

Mrs Hughes swallowed thickly and ran a hand over her sallow forehead before answering, "I know this is going to be hard for you, so I am just going to come out and say it-"

Luce felt her eyelids close momentarily. She took a shallow breath, her whole diaphragm deflating in defeat. She didn't need to hear the next sentence, but it was said anyway.

"- the cancer has spread quicker than they first thought it would and the chemotherapy that he has been getting is nowhere near strong to combat it," Mrs Hughes sniffled. "He has been scheduled to have an emergency operation to try and remove one of the new tumours. He goes into anaesthesia in four hours' time. It won't cure it… but it will increase the time we have left."

Adam seemed to Luce to be shocked into silence. He stared at their mother. His face was emotionless excluding his gaping mouth. Luce looked down at her feet, for some reason not wanting to meet her mother's eye.

"H-h-how l-l-long?" she mumbled quietly.

"Two months."

Adam snapped out of his almost-comatose state rapidly, "Two months?!"

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. They just didn't know it would spread that fast," Mrs Hughes replied tearfully.

"But surely they can do something? They can. They have all of this stuff and all of this money and Dad is healthy usually. These things are only supposed to happen to unhealthy people! They will find something to help him!" Adam exclaimed.

"Darling-"

"So they are just going to let him die? This is the 21st century not the fricking Middle-Ages!"

The fact that Adam wasn't chastised for his language was an indicator of how serious the situation was. It only made it ten times worse. Adam reckoned that that was the only time he had been actually begging to be snapped at. He opened his mouth to spout more profanities but stopped at a glance from Luce.

Luce placed a warning hand on Adam's shoulder before he could say something that he would really regret. Her brother was definitely an act-first, think-later type of person.

"I have to go back to the hospital to be with your father. I want you two to stay here, you won't want to see him the way he is. Aunty Georgia will be dropping off Tim and Haley. You two would be able to look after them, wouldn't you? Since you are sixteen, Luce, you'll be able to cope, won't you? Aunty Georgia just wants to be with your father, that's all," Mrs Hughes informed them both regretfully.

Luce nodded, biting back the retort of '_Well I want to be with my father, that's all!'_

"Thank you both. I better be heading off but if there is anything you need, just give me a call."

"W-w-we will," Luce promised, knowing full well that mobile phones were prohibited in hospitals and that her mother was just saying that to make herself feel better for leaving her with three children to look after.

Mrs Hughes gave a forlorn smile at her children and pressed a kiss to both their heads before heading out of the door, dabbing at her eye with a screwed up tissue from her sleeve.

Once the sound of the car's engine disappeared, Adam surged forward to the kitchen table, picked up the vase and hurled it at the wall with a roar of anger. The vase collided with the wall and exploded into hundreds of sharp smithereens.

"A-Adam!" Luce cried, wrestling the mug that he was about to throw out of his hand.

"Why, Luce? Why Dad? Why did it have to be Dad? What the hell has he ever done?!" Adam spouted tears once again forming in his eyes as he released the mug.

Luce pushed her own back and placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, her eyes glued to the watery tears on his face.

"Things like this don't happen depending on what someone has done or hasn't done. Life's a bitch and you just have to accept it. Dad's dying. We can't afford to fall apart about it now. Is that really how we want to spend the last few weeks of Dad's life? Moping and crying and waiting for the day when everything comes crashing down? Is that what you want?" Luce gripped Adam roughly and spoke with a sternness in her voice that neither her nor her brother had heard before.

In that emotional and chaotic moment, however, the fact that she hadn't stuttered was lost in the meaning of the words spoken with such clarity.

Adam sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, nodding reluctantly at his sister's words. He understood that sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.

Luce finally looked away from the tears pooling in Adam's eyes and headed for the front door without a word. Adam sat down at the kitchen table – mindful of the glass – and rested his head in his arms.

Sherlock perked up once he saw the door open, but immediately knew that the news was grave as Luce walked over to him with an even paler face than normal. She stopped in front of him.

"So what's the verdict?" Sherlock asked.

Luce licked her lips, "D-Dad is g-g-going in for an op-op-p-p-operation soon. Th-they've g-given him two months."

Sherlock didn't need to plan out his next sentence, it came naturally as breathing, "I'm sorry, Luce. Is there anything that I can do?"

Luce looked at him in surprise. That was unexpected. But not completely unwelcome.

"That's o-okay, Sh-Sherlock. Y-you've done enough. I ha-have to look after my l-little cousins f-f-f-for the night."

"I can stay and help if you would like," his words required a little more thought now; he didn't have any failsafe comments lined up ready. "School isn't on tomorrow."

Luce considered this. She really could do with a hand. Adam was in no fit state – nor would it be fair to ask him – to help out with Tim and Haley and they were a handful. A four month old and a five year old, were really the pinnacle of babysitting.

"Th-that would b-be fantastic, if y-you don't mind," Luce added quickly. "St-stay as long a-as y-you w-w-want. D-d-don't f-feel obliged to h-help, though."

"I don't," he assured her.

Luce smiled at him and walked back to the house, leaving the door open for him to follow.

Sherlock noticed the way that her smile was counterfeit, not reaching her eyes. She was obviously trying hard not to show her feelings. And again, his hand stayed by his side as he walked through the house, shutting the door behind himself. It didn't once reach to get his Dictaphone. What did that say about him?

* * *

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